


If You Fall I Will Catch You

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Driftwood [9]
Category: Broadchurch, True Love (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Series 1 Episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec goes on a memorable trip to the bookshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Fall I Will Catch You

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from “Time after Time” by Eva Cassidy

It should have occurred to him a lot earlier that by the time he had built up a collection of a dozen or so postcards Holly would be back from her holiday. He remembered from his own holidays, when he’d still taken them with his family, that delivery times for post from Italy unpredictable at best; often arriving out of order, frequently long after the sender had returned from their trip. But he was so caught up in the anticipation and simple joy of finding Holly’s messages that he never thought about any thing else; like when they’d stop. Or when he might see her again.

As progress in the case became increasingly slower, he found himself at the bookshop more frequently. His short discussion of books with Holly had reminded him of one of his favourite pastimes, one he’d given up sometime in the two decades as his career, and home life, had picked up. Going to a library wasn’t an option. He was a man who had to own the books he read. He hated the smell of stale cigarette smoke that sometimes assaulted his senses upon opening a library book. Or the stains in them. He’d begin to think about where they came from, and it would stop him reading.

At first, the staff at the local high street bookshop had eyed him with ill-concealed loathing, their looks asking if his time wouldn’t be better spent trying to catch a child’s murderer. But he ignored them. Besides, wasn’t he the worst cop ever? He had a reputation to live up to, after all. The sheer number of books he bought, however, soon mollified the staff, and they even began to make suggestions to him.

Reading was, as Holly had said, a great refuge, one that he had sought increasingly in the past month. The bookshop was just a slight detour from his usual trip between the police station and the hotel. He still lived there, and the only personal touch his room had gained was a framed photograph and his growing library, contained in a box he’d picked up at the supermarket.

It was late on Friday afternoon, and the light was gorgeous out. It wasn't visible in the bookshop, of course, but he planned on sitting outside on the Trader’s patio, read while he enjoying a cup Becca’s tea and reading. He was in the general fiction section, browsing paperbacks, a three-for-two offer, when he sensed someone join him at the table on which the eligible titles were displayed.

“Hey you.”

His heart began beating faster. “Hey,” he squeaked, failing miserably at affecting nonchalance. Looking up, he turned his head and saw her standing there. She had a bit of a tan, but she looked pale underneath it, and there was a hollowness to her eyes that he didn’t recognise and that shocked him.

“I always find it difficult to find a third — or a sixth — book to take advantage of the offer. Do you think we could… pool resources?” she asked.

He rested his hand on the tall stack of books beside him. There were only two volumes in it, but they were massive. “Aye,” he said, smiling. She was right, the third book often proved elusive.

She went to the far side of the table and picked up a slim little book and passed it to him. He didn’t even bother with such short novels because he usually went through them in one night. He accepted it and added it to his two.

“I’m done here,” he said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“This won’t take long,” he said.

“A friend recommended it, and I usually pick those up as soon as I can. I’ve got a lousy memory sometimes,” she replied, brushing her wind-blown hair back with little success. It was a blustery day, and the wind had made a right mess of her hair. He’d made it a habit to smooth his down as soon as he entered a building.

“Shall we then?”

He paid, and when she wanted to give him the money outside the shop, he tucked his free hand deeply into his coat pocket. “You keep it.”

“Can I buy you a coffee, at least?”

He nodded, and they set off to the Trader’s, where they found a table away from the street. Because it was late in the day, not to mention nearing the end of tourist season, they were the only ones on the patio. Holly went inside to get their coffees, and Alec stretched out in his seat and browsed the books he’d purchased. He loved looking over the bonus elements of a book, the maps & illustrations, dedications, especially a Q&A with the author if there was one.

He straightened in his chair when Holly returned with a stainless steel tray, bearing crockery, a small French coffee press and a pot of tea. She’d remembered.

“Thank you for the cards,” he said.

“You already got them?” she asked, surprised, depressing the plunger to push the coffee to the bottom of the beaker.

“A dozen of them. Two arrived today.”

“You’ll get two more yet,” she said, smiling softly. She poured the coffee, the gesture setting free the rich aroma of the dark roast. He fished the tea bags out of the pot and poured himself a cup, sweet and blonde.

“I’ll be sorry not to get any more.”

“Well, I’m back now, aren’t I?”

“Aye.” He sipped his tea. Becca’s tea was very hot, and at the beginning of his stay he’d burned his tongue badly a couple of times. He pushed the slim book across the table towards Holly. When she dug out her purse, he shook his head. “Don’t. It’s a present.”

She blushed, again tucking an annoying lock of hair behind her ear. Of course, it didn’t stay there long. “Thank you. But I didn’t want you to —”

“I know,” he said. “Did you paint lots? The scenery seems spectacular.”

She smiled, sipping her coffee. “Draw. Yes, I did.”

He smirked and she realised he was teasing her. “You horrible man!” she whined.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She stared at him. “You’ve heard worse.”

“Much worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was deserved.”

She sobered. “I doubt that.”

He looked away. Her faith in him left him speechless, but he knew he was right. The whole nation thought so, as did his ex-wife and his daughter.

He jumped when she covered his hand with hers. “I doubt that,” she repeated.

“Don’t. It’s a mistake.”

She gave him a stern look, not teacher-like at all. “Believe me. I know the feeling. And I know you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the armrests. “Who’s K?” He hadn’t meant to ask, had wanted to allow him to rest in peace, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to prove just how bad he was.

It worked. She shrank away and closed herself off from him. It was palpable. “You know, don’t you?”

Actually, he didn’t, and he was affronted that she’d think he’d snoop around in her past. But her words tell him he was successful in pushing her away.

Why?

Why had he done that? What possessed him to hurt her so, when all she’d only ever been friendly to him.

Later, alone in his room, staring at the pages of one of _Cloud Atlas_ , he found the answer. She truly had faith in him, when even he himself didn’t. She had been there reaching out for him just as he was losing touch with himself. She was exactly what he needed.

He launched himself off the edge of his bed and paced the room, swearing softly to himself.


End file.
